


Alpha, Omega

by SQ (proteinscollide)



Category: Entourage
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proteinscollide/pseuds/SQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>The beginning and the end</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alpha, Omega

Sometimes Drama’s a mean drunk.

“You’re a cheapass E, why aren’t you buying the next round?” he slurs, leaning forward, one arm anchored around Vince’s shoulder.

“Because I have bills to pay and I’m not living off my brother,” E shoots back. It’s not even as if he’s been drinking on anyone else’s dime – he’s been nursing the same beer for the better part of the hour, three rounds in.

Vince bought the first, of course, and he’d slipped the bottle into E’s hand with a smile that no one could turn down, least of all E.

“Fuck you E. Johnny Drama’s no mooch. Baby bro lived off my couch right from the start, I’m just repaying the favour.”

“Yeah, I owe you big time,” Vince says easily, patting his brother on the back. “Next round’s on me, guys.” He barely turns his head to look into the packed bar and a lithe cocktail waitress materialises by his side.

She’s in what passes for a uniform around here – just enough skirt to skim her ass, barely enough material across her breasts, a dust of glitter over every inch of tanned skin, and a beauty contestant smile – white teeth and lipstick and wide eyed enthusiasm. Everyone takes a good long look, but she only has eyes for Vince.

“Shots all round,” Vince says, twirling a finger around the table once, “And one for you too if you’d like to join us.”

Her flirtatious smile doesn’t clear the vacant look from her eyes, but she’s tucking the fifty into her cleavage and shimmying her ass as she walks away, so who gives a shit?

“I’ll have E’s,” Drama says, “Since he’s too good for charity.”

“Yeah, fuck you too Drama,” E says, rolling his eyes. He honestly does not give a fuck with Drama thinks, but Vince jumps into the fray on his behalf anyway.

“C’mon, give him a break. E works hard for his money, he deserves to do whatever he likes with it,” Vince says. He pats Eric on the knee once, twice, and then he keeps it there. E glances down and then he looks away quickly, before anyone notices. Vince just lets it sit there, warm and steady.

“It’s not his money, it’s your money,” Drama argues. “He was last on the gravy train but he made damn sure he was right on it once Vinny hit it big, didn’t you E?”

E tenses up, opens his mouth to argue this time, but Vince’s hand grips tight on his knee and E knows to back down.

“You guys gotta stop talking about me like I’m some kind of cheap ride,” Vince says mildly, just as the waitress sashays back, a line of shots on her tray.

She puts it down on the table and leans forward to hand Vince his change, his face almost in her breasts, her mouth by his ear, murmuring for what feels like eons. Vince nods, as she tilts her head toward the back of the club and starts making her way back to the bar through the crush of the crowd.

Turtle waits until she’s just out of sight. “Not a cheap ride, right?”

The table bursts into raucous laughter, bad blood forgotten. They raise their shot glasses high – even E, on Vince’s prompting. As he swallows, E can feel only two things: the burning heat of the vodka down his throat, the burning heat of Vince’s palm still on his thigh.

“So, I’ll see you guys later?” Vince says.

Drama shakes his head, smirking. “Got business to take care of?” he says, and he plays out a dirty mime.

“Taking advantage of the hospitality offered,” Vince says with a wolfish grin.

E jerks his leg away under the table, feels Vince hand slide away. But Vince doesn’t miss a beat, turning to slap the hand Drama offers, then Turtle’s.

“E?” he says, hand out in front of him.

“You’re a dog,” E says, but there’s no heat in his words, and Vince pats E on the thigh one last time and takes off.

E drives himself home not long after that. Turtle stays at the club to make sure Vince gets home, and Drama’s passed out in the back seat by the time they reach the house. It’s chilly out, but E barely feels a pang of guilt as he locks the car and leaves Drama to sleep it off for the night.

The house is quiet as E gets ready for bed, divesting his suit, his armour piece by piece before falling into bed. He puts his hand on his half-hard dick, strokes it a few times through the material of his boxers, then tries to pretend he’s not thinking about Vince at this moment. He tries to pretend his life doesn’t revolve around Vince, that it hasn’t always revolved around Vince. He doesn’t finish jerking off.

When he wakes up next the weak LA sun in streaming into his room, and there’s something heavy over his chest. Across the yard he can hear voices from the kitchen, a blender whirring. E scrubs at his face blearily with one hand, picks up the object on his chest with the other and squints at it. It’s nothing but a dark rectangular shape at first and he has to blink a few times before it comes into focus. Even then it takes him a few moments to place what it is.

It’s a video cassette tape in its cardboard case – no label, rewound. God, he hasn’t seen one of these in years. E turns it over in his hand and marvels at how fast technology’s evolved. A house full of electronics – six TVs, a couple of laptops, a full entertainment system in the lounge, and there’s not one piece of equipment he could use to play this tape now. But E doesn’t need to watch it to know what it is.

He remembers everything about that day, in Vince’s bedroom back in Queens, even when it feels so far from where they are now. He remembers fumbling with the tape before he could get fit it into the slot by the side of the camera. There’d been no way they could’ve afforded even a cheap camcorder, but when Dom had turned up with the camera one afternoon, swearing up and down it was borrowed from a friend, E hadn’t asked any more questions. It was too bad Dom hadn’t thought to ‘borrow’ a tripod too while he was at it, E had thought as he hefted the heavy weight of the camera onto his shoulder, no one else around to help him hold it steady. Vince hadn’t let any of the other guys show up for this, just E.

Vince had been fiddling with his hair incessantly all afternoon, slicking it back, then running his fingers through the curls nervously, messing it all up again. And then he was looking at E, his eyes dark, like he thought E had all the answers, could make anything alright.

“How do I look?” Vince had asked.

E adjusted the lens, focussed in until all he could see was Vince’s head and shoulders, and then he moved closer, until Vince’s face filled the frame.

“You look fine, great.” He’d pulled back a touch then, caught the frown on Vince’s face. “No, you look better than great. You look like a star.” E remembered saying that, because he believed it with all his heart. They were only seventeen, but E already knew that he’d follow Vince to the end of the world. And when Vince looked at him, E knew that he couldn’t be the only one who saw this, who’d ever want Vince with the same crazy desire.

Vince had smiled then, hearing E’s answer. He stood straighter, looked up with eyes bright, the confidence flowing back into him. And E had said then, magic words, “There – hold that – let’s roll.”

E closes his eyes and brings the tape closer to his face. He presses his forehead against the cold plastic, as if this could somehow bring the Vince of his memories, his dreams, closer in that moment. The tape slips forward out of the case and E’s fingers brush against a slip of paper with a rustle. Pulling away, he slides the note out and turns it over, a message in Vince’s loopy handwriting.

  
_You were the first, never the last, always and forever._   


END


End file.
